So for our family vacation this summer, in addition to spending some time in the Shenandoah, we went camping for a long weekend in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan to Porcupine Mountain State Park.

Our connection to Porcupine Mountain began the summer Simon was born.

Taido loaded up the three big kids + one cousin and took them all camping there. He drove our mini van (pulling a flat bed trailer full of gear) all the way up to the north of the north of the north.

To Lake Superior.

It was 2006.

The barefoot child in the above photo just graduated from college.

15 years ago, these four ran and played and swam and threw rocks…

And experienced the joy of being in this beautiful place.

While I was at home nursing a baby, they climbed through forests and made trails over their own little mountains.

They even enjoyed a little (probably enforced) camp chill time.

They walked the long staircase every day to stand in the freezing cold lake, and to watch the sunset.

And then they drove back home and told me all about it.

But I forgot about this place I had never been to.

Until 15 years later, Taido suggested we go there again. He said it would be cooler in the summertime, and that the drive would be shorter since we don’t live in Arkansas.

So a plan was made.

A long weekend in July was marked off on the calendar.

And off we went.

Again there were four kiddos. Much bigger this time.

And a different set of kids, save Ben.

We drove to the north of the north of the north and escaped the hot summer sun.

We walked the same long stairway down to Lake Superior.

We hiked the same trails.

And found ourselves in the middle of quiet woods.

And alongside waterfalls.

The kids crawled over rocks.

They sat by the river and watched the water flow by.

Now that the kids are older, sometimes we left them back at camp and went on morning hikes while they were still asleep in their sleeping bags.

We walked along the river in the cool shadows before the sun was high.

And we pondered how it is possible that piles of rocks can be so gorgeous.

When the kids were awake we drove as far north as we could go.

And everyone at least touched the ocean-like lake, and some brave folks got all the way in.

And then more hiking!

Porcupine Mountain State Park has miles and miles of beautiful trails.

This trail above The Lake of the Clouds might have been our favorite.

But it’s hard to choose! We also loved the river hike along the waterfalls.

And we enjoyed not having to watch little guys so closely.

I remember when Taido came home in 2006 and he showed me pictures of the giant staircase down to the lake, I thought that if I had been there, I might have been a little nervous about the kids camping up so high. Of course, this time I didn’t even think about the kids running down to the lake on their own.

Though I was still tempted once or twice to tell Ben to be careful.

And after hiking and swimming, we had a little camp chill time.

Napping + Outside = Dreamy Summertime.

This time, no one had to be forced to nap.

We had no cell service at our campground. Such a rare gift in 2021, y’all.

My niece Emily let all the cousins use her drawing materials.

I honestly can’t remember the last time I saw these boys drawing.

And just like in 2006, we went down to the lake every night to watch the sun drop below the horizon.

The colors were different each night.

It’s amazing how the sunset happens every day but is never the same.

And of course, the kids still got their shoes wet.

And they still spent hours skipping rocks.

Our sweet camping trip reminded me again and again that you’re never too old to play in the sun.

I found this passage about teaching kids to love the outdoors in a Mary Oliver book of essays recently that I just love:

Teach the children. We don’t matter so much, but the children do. Show them daisies and pale hepatica. Teach them the taste of sassafras and wintergreen. The lives of blue sailors, mallow, sunbursts, the moccasin flowers. And the frisky ones — inkberry, lamb’s-quarters, blueberries. And the aromatic ones — rosemary, oregano. Give them peppermint to put in their pockets as they go to school. Give them the fields and the woods and the possibility of the world salvaged from the lords of profit. Stand them in the stream, head them upstream, rejoice as they learn to love this green space they live in, its sticks and leaves and then the silent, beautiful blossoms.

Attention is the beginning of devotion.

(from Upstream)

My little kiddos grew up so fast (just like everyone told me that they would.)

This camping trip was a blessed pause, a moment to see that yes, I think we did give them the field and the woods.

I hope we showed them the possibility of the world salvaged from the lords of profit.

And I will always rejoice as they learn to love this green space they live in, its sticks and leaves and then the silent, beautiful blossoms.

A few details for if you go to Porcupine Mountain:

There are two campgrounds in Porcupine Mountain State Park: Presque Isle and Union Bay. Both of our camping trips were at Presque Isle (no electrical hook-ups + pit toilets), but we drove one day to Union Bay, and it is lovely as well. Reservations are accepted (and recommended) at both campgrounds. There are also several great-looking backcountry sites, which we have our eye on for a return trip. The closest town to Presque Isle is Wakefield, which was a good 30 minutes away, so stock up on ice and firewood when you drive through there on your way.

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We went camping at Starved Rock State Park a couple weeks ago for Simon’s fall break and I remembered that one of my favorite rooms with a view is this tent.

It’s true. Seeing the trees RIGHT THERE when my eyes open is one of the surest ways I know to wake up happy.

Also I love the boys being outside on their bikes and running around.

Of course camping with middle schoolers also looks like phones around the campfire.

We spent most of Saturday hiking around the state park. The trails at Starved Rock have tons of wooden walkways built above the ground to protect the ecosystem.

So fancy. You don’t even really get muddy.

The trails have lots of lookouts over canyons and gorges.

Everything was still so green and lush. Leaves were just beginning to change here and there.

But mostly it was all green and blue.

Starved Rock is right on the Illinois River.

Some of the trails run right along the riverside.

There’s a beautiful old lodge at Starved Rock that reminded me of some of the older national park lodges we’ve visited.

They were all decked out for fall, and lots of folks were eating inside and outside the restaurant at the lodge.

We did a second hike after lunch before the rain set in to a different canyon.

The sky was starting to grow pretty ominous. Rain was rolling in Saturday afternoon and we were trying to beat it with one more hike.

We found the waterfall we were looking for and after the boys played behind it for a little bit, we took off to get back to the car before the storm.

The waterfall reminded me of a hike in Arkansas that we love so much at Petit Jean State Park.

Once the rain hit, we went to town for snacks.

We roamed a few shops, stopped in a taproom that had a stack of board games, and waited for the rain to subside.

Then we bought a stack of dry firewood and went back to camp.

Marshmallows and campfire selfies.

Taido and the boys turned in pretty early and I stayed out by the fire for a long time. I can watch the flames for hours, listening to the wood pop and the wind rustle the trees.

On Sunday morning, the sun came out and quickly dried everything out. We packed up and hit one more trail after breakfast.

It was such a lovely weekend and felt so good to flex that camping muscle again after a long hiatus.

I remembered how much I love being outside in my camp chair.

I read a book, I sketched our tent.

I listened to the kids laugh (while reciting their favorite scenes from Parks and Rec over and over again).

When I got home, I filled in my sketch with watercolors.

A happy memory in my journal of some good days outdoors.

Cheers to more of those super soon!

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A light drizzle was falling on us as we made the drive to Aboyne, Scotland.

It was a Saturday morning in March. Nearly Easter.

We were headed to meet our friends Patrick and Nicola for a walk with our kids and theirs.

Soon we were standing around in the car park in the rain. (car park = parking lot, My friend Tanja likes to say “The car park sounds like it’s where all the cars go to play!”)

All of our kids were tugging at hoods and zippers to get a bit more cover from the rain.

When you are still beside the cars and it is raining, you feel that maybe you should just get back into the cars and forget the walk. It’s discouraging to begin a walk in bad weather, and it’s hard to just walk away from those metal coverings that have dry seats inside of them.

But we had driven an hour to reach Aboyne, so no one balked when Taido said, “Ok, this way.”

We filed behind him along the sidewalk until he turned left off of the road and onto a trail.

The joy of being with another family is that we could all laugh together about being out in the rain. If it had just been Chinos on this hike, there would have been attempted mutiny and non-stop complaining.

But when you’re with others who say things like, “Auch, well, it’s good to be outside on a Saturday,” then everyone is more inclined to be cheerful.

We traipsed through damp woods over brown ferns and grasses, not yet showing any signs of spring green. But on this wet March day, the air felt warmer. The winter chill was definitely beginning to pass even if spring was not yet visible.

The rain stopped after a bit, and the kids scrambled ahead of us, shedding their raincoats and climbing trees.

Nicola and I fell behind a bit, chatting and catching up after weeks of quick hellos at church. A proper chinwag while walking a wooded trail is my favorite way to spend time with a friend. Maybe it’s my introverted nature talking here, but it’s so much easier to walk and chat than sitting face-to-face. The pressure is off. You can walk and talk or walk and listen or walk and be quiet. Anything goes. This day we talked quite a lot. Easter was upon us and we were both feeling the sting of having one older child away from home for Easter. We talked about Easters of years past and how the day is not quite the same without little ones. We spoke of children getting older and living with mostly boys. We talked about the future and the hopes and worries of our hearts.

Before long the kids were shouting from a pile of rocks that we had reached the top and it was time for lunch.

We pulled out sandwiches and tuna wraps and apples and carrots and homemade blondies. We passed around treats and pretzels. The wind picked up and we all got chilled quickly on the exposed hilltop. Taido poured tea from a stainless steel flask and Patrick poured coffee from his blue and green thermos.

“I feel raindrops!” one of the kids said. “Let’s get going.”

Time to walk again.

Taido led us back down the hill we had climbed and then we looped on a different trail back to town.

We came down through a grove of pine trees and out by a field where the views opened up and we could see the mist-covered mountains. More of the ground and the trees were beginning to be green.

Spring was almost here.

It’s a long exhale every year when I realize that I have made it through another winter.

We walked along the field, everyone’s pace quickening in the rain.

I stopped to tie a lace and got behind. When I looked up, I saw our kids walking ahead together and then Taido with Patrick and Nicola following on the lane.

And I remember thinking then:

This is how I always will always remember our days in Scotland. Wandering in the Highlands on the days when the weather is not the best and even the season is not my favorite, but we are outside and we are together.

The joy of opening a flask of hot tea or a tupperware of homemade treats with a group of friends on a rainy day is a feeling I want to bottle. It is simple and lovely and inexpensive and uncomplicated. And on nights that follow days like these I fall into my bed with tired legs and full heart.

Many, many of our Saturdays in Scotland have been marked by this simple rhythm.

Steps on a path and friends alongside.

PS. Aboyne, Scotland is a super lovey little town in Royal Deeside (west of Aberdeen in the Highlands). You can find the walk we did at Walk Highlands, and if you find yourself in need of a cup of tea after a wet, cold walk, I highly recommend stopping in the Black Faced Sheep in Aboyne, Scotland before you head on your merry way. Another really charming spot for walking in this area is Glen Tanar.

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Vernazza was the only one of the five villages in the Cinque Terre we had left to visit at the end of our week in Italy.

We had taken a day off from hiking to rest and enjoy Manarola and so I was looking for a longer hike for our final morning of trekking in this beautiful area.

This turned out to be our biggest hiking day of the week.

We climbed from Manarola up to Volastra via the same route we took on the day we hiked to Corniglia. Only this time we went up past Volastra to the old #1 (now referred to as the AVT5). The old #1 is a trail that goes all the way from Levanto to Portovenere, a long distance hiking trail for those who are doing some more serious hiking in Italy.

The trail from Volastra was well marked but did not seem to have much traffic. We saw no one on our way up except a couple of guys who were doing trail maintenance, for which we were very thankful.

This first part of the trail wound up through the trees and was steep in places, but did not drop off to the sides like some of the coastal trails.

Once we reached the AV5T which is more of a ridgeline trail, the path leveled off a bit.

We were super grateful for this easy going section of the trail.

It’s well-maintained and well-traveled. There are even places to camp along the way with established fire circles.

We enjoyed seeing the signs for the old trail here and there next to the new ones.

And glimpsing the high villages.

This ridge was the highest point we hiked to all week.

Again, the boys stayed way ahead of me for most of the day.

Soon we  could see the small hilltop village of San Bernadino.

We knew we needed to go through San Bernadino in order to get to Vernazza.

As we dropped elevation, we could  see Corniglia and even eventually Manarola to the south.

We reached San Bernadino around noon.

It was very, very quiet.

I think there are places to eat in San Bernadino in the summertime, but we didn’t see anything open.

In fact, we didn’t even see any people in San Bernadino, which meant there was no one to ask for directions when we got lost trying to find the 507 to Vernazza.

After some traipsing we found some random markings for the 507, which we felt indicated that we were not the only ones to go wrong around San Bernadino.

We got back to our coastal path, above the deep blue sea.

And back to our red and white markings. We’re always happy to see those!

And then we finally got our first look at Vernazza below.

So pretty!!

Vernazza is a lot of folks’ favorite of the five towns in the Cinque Terre, and we could see why.

It is just lovely.

Of course, blue sky and sunshine made it even more lovely.

We walked through several alley ways before coming out to the main street and natural harbor.

Then we found some pizza.

And some gelato, of course.

It was a gorgeous day hiking to Vernazza!

We were all glad to have arrived, and glad to have made the journey. At the bottom of our trail we joined with the local #2 trail that is the main trail that runs between Vernazza and Corniglia, the only trail you have to pay to walk on in the Cinque Terre. It was absolutely mobbed with people, so we were so glad we had chosen a different route.

Loads of folks were out enjoying the sun and sea in Vernazza, but we found a quiet corner of the harbor to enjoy a little rest.

 I might have had a wee nap in the sun.

After a while, we made our way back up the main road to the train station and hopped on to ride two stops back to our homeless, Manarola.

Mary Polly stayed home this day, so we had to tell her all about our adventures when we got back.

PS. Here’s a six second video of our day!

Also, more Italy posts!

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Here’s something you should know about hiking in the Cinque Terre in 2016.

Once upon a time there was a trail that ran along the coastline all the way through all five towns of the Cinque Terre. It started in Monterosso al Mare and went through Vernazza, Corniglia, and Manarola, all the way to Riomaggiore. This trail is sometimes called the Blue Trail and sometimes called the #2 trail. Of the loads of hikes available to hike in the CInque Terre, this trail is by far the most popular (read: crowded) and you have to pay a daily fee per person to walk on it.

For two reasons, we never went on the Blue Trail (#2). One was the fee amounted to about 20 euros per day for my family and we are used to hiking for free. The other is that the portions between Corniglia and Manarola and Manarola and Riomaggiore are closed. So we considered doing the #2 one day between Corniglia and Vernazza and then on from Vernazza to Monterosso, but there were so many other free trails to do that we did not get around to it. Also the free trails tended to be more sparsely used which was nice, since lots of the paths on the hills in the Cinque Terre are rather narrow.

The last part of the #2 from Manarola to Riomaggiore is called the Via del Amore and it is the easiest walk in the Cinque Terre. However since it is closed, the other trail over the mountain, the rather steep #531, was a good bit more crowded than the other trails we walked. Most people were walking it in the opposite direction from us, so we had to step aside a lot to let people pass. I think we went up the steeper side though (from Manarola to the top of the hill) so I was glad to be going the direction we went.

I would always rather go up a steep section than down. (I’m looking back down towards Manarola in the above photo.)

The narrow stairs in the photos above and below kind of illustrate what I mean by steep.

But hello very lovely views of the vineyards.

And the sea.

All week in the Cinque Terre, we loved getting high above these villages and watching the towns become little colorful building blocks stacked in the distance.

And when you get higher, the other towns and hills of the region come into view.

But watch your step!

Remember that big wooden crucifix from our first hike. You can see it way in the distance now.

Hey MP, can you give me a hand!

So high up that you can see the road leaving Manarola and we’re now almost eye level with the hill top village of Volastra.

And the train tracks between the tunnels.

And then up top, we could finally see Riomaggiore on the other side.

Riomaggiore is a bigger town than Manarola. It seemed to be where lots of the folks who work in all the other towns live.

Ben literally hopped down these trails. It was insane.

I would love to be able to run down uneven rock stairs the way he does.

Down through the vineyards and lemon tree groves we went.

Across the cutest little stone bridge and into the town.

Steep hills and more lemon trees.

Turquoise doors on a shed. Yes please.

Lemons growing.

Stone bridge.

These are the stairs we came down to enter Riomaggiore.

And looking back at the bridge.

Into the town.

The trail along the #531 is only about 1 kilometer, but it’s a doozy!

Here’s the road leading to Manarola from Riomaggiore.

And from above, the tiny platform at Riomaggiore.

Actually the platform is a lot longer, it just goes inside the tunnels. They say if the platform at a station is really crowded, then just walk in the tunnel a little ways because when the train stops, part of it will be in the tunnel and you can get on a less crowded train car. Also, we didn’t go it (traveling with children) but there’s supposed to be a pretty fab spot for drinks just above this train station. If you go, let me know how you enjoy it!

This is my crew at the end of the up and down slog from Manarola to Riomaggiore. These faces are saying: When. Is. Lunch.

Just a minute kids. I have a few photos I want to take first.

Like of these wall murals.

And the walkway into town.

And of the town of Riomaggiore itself!

Whoops, the kids started to get way ahead of me.

But it’s sooooo pretty.

Right?

Oh wait, the middle of the road was all torn up. But it will probably be all fixed by summertime.

And still it was a great walkway lined with gelato and pizza and all things Cinque Terre.

We had our pizza from the first place we could find.

Ate it right on the street.

Then we hiked up part of the way to the chapel on the hill.

Always following the red and white striped markings.

Up, up, up and down, down, down.

Down through the town and to the little harbor.

It was a gorgeous day.

We made our way down to the rocks to sit in the sun for a while.

Then per our usual routine, we made our way to the train station.

We hopped on a train and rode the one stop back to Manarola.

PS Here’s a six second video of our day!

Also, more Italy posts!

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Right outside the doorstep of our apartment in Manarola, we climbed to the vineyard trail that runs around Manarola to begin our first big hike in the Cinque Terre, a trail that goes to Corniglia via Volastra. Corniglia is the next town up in the Cinque Terre from Manarola. (If you think of the Cinque Terre as five fingers, Corniglia is the middle finger.) And Volastra is the village that sits on top of the hill that divides Manarola and Corniglia.

Up, Up, Up in to the sunlight and above the colored houses of Manarola.

To the nativity that overlooks Manarola and beyond, into the vineyards above.

We could see where we were headed to the north, the town of Corniglia on the next “finger” up along the coast. She beckoned to us from her perch on the top of the rocks.

We climbed high over the vineyards to Volastra before dropping down to Corniglia. 

We were happy to see the blue, blue sea below. 

Every once in a while I would turn back and see how high we had come above Manarola.

Signs lets us know how far we had to go.

And vineyards leveled off at the top of the ridge.  

First time to be wearing short sleeves in a long, long time. We were thrilled to see the sunshine in Italy.

Below the vineyards, we could see the train tracks running from tunnel to tunnel. It’s an impressive network running through the mountains to each of these villages. 

Manarola is almost too far away to see now. 

We followed the red and white markings all along the trails. 

And soon we were dropping closer to Corniglia.

Steep stairs and paths down into the village.

A square for resting and a spot to see the sea.

First order of business in Corniglia: gelato, of course. 

And next: Lunch. 

I’m not sure which was better: eating outside for the first time in months or having pizza spread with fresh pesto. 

After lunch we wandered around Corniglia.

We found all the best spots to see the sea. 

This is the square we had lunch in behind our viewing spot.

Hello sunshine.

I loved how this region is just soaked in color.

After lunch, Ben hiked back to Manarola the way we came. He loved the trail we had walked and said he was happy to walk it again

Down the steps we went to try to find the train station back to Manarola.

We had read that there were 365 steps down to the train station, so we just started descending steps until we reached the sea.

It seemed super deserted, and I vaguely wondered why there were not more people coming up the steps from the train station.

When we got down to the sea, we realized that we had taken the wrong steps. 

We were in an isolated fishing harbor. 

We sat for a minute and enjoyed being so close to the water, and then we tried to find the a way to the train station without going back up the steps.

It was a no go.

We climbed all the way back up to Corniglia.

When Mama gets that lost, there are second helpings of gelato.

Then we found the right set of stairs to the train station. 

And back to Manarola where Ben had been waiting for ages for us, wondering what had taken us so long.

PS. Here’s a little vine of our day of hiking from Manrola to Corniglia!

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From my bottom bunk, I couldn’t see the mountains that were visible the day before.

No one was awake yet, so I let them all sleep while I got up to contemplate the wisdom of dragging my mom and two boys up a misty hill.

“The weather looks pretty great today,” answered our friendly host at the youth hostel in Grasmere when I asked about the cloudy skies.

If you live here, as in Scotland, mist is not bad weather. I remembered to be glad for mist instead of thrashing rain and wind.

“Ok,” I said, “I’m hoping to go up to Easedale Tarn today.”

“Do you have a map?”

Does the one in my head count? I thought, as I shook my head.

He handed me a hand-drawn map of the walk I was hoping  to do.

I recognized the scribblings of Wainwright from my two weeks on England’s Coast to Coast trail.

“Thanks.”

“Cheers! Have a great day!”

Less than an hour later, fed and fitted, we were on our way up cobbled stones and mossy lanes.

I can tell how thick the mist is by how fast my hair is soaked through, even under my hat. Droplets of water falling from the rims of my glasses indicated to me that it was heavy.

But we were undeterred. Onward and upward.

The boys ran ahead and I watched my mama take in the delights of wider Grasmere just I had hoped she would.

Even on a wet March day.

We could hear running water as we climbed higher.

And every once in a while we caught glimpses through the clouds of white water falling in the folds of the hills.

And then we were upon it.

Waterfalls that presumably were running from the lake to which we were headed: Easedale Tarn.

The mist seemed to get heavier as we got higher.

But as long as we could see the trail in front of us, we kept on putting one foot in front of the other.

And occasionally I could see one of the boys waving back at us.

But over half the time I was turned around taking in the views behind me.

I have fallen in love with the Lake District over and over again. In different months and seasons and in all kinds of weather. On our first visit here, it rained almost constantly and I still couldn’t wait to come back.

This was my first wintery visit. My first time to glimpse snow on the hilltops as we made the drive.

Spring was just around the corner. The days were starting to be longer and the air warmer, but officially it was still winter. I shed my gloves and the wool band I usually wear on my ears, but I still had them both handy in my pockets, knowing I could need them again any minute.

It was not too long before we found the lake, where we sat down for a minute to stretch our legs.

Everyone was happy to be at Easedale Tarn, and walked around the lake a little bit before turning around to finish our loop walk. As we edged around one part of the lake, we surprised a hiker who was stripping down for a swim.

We heard a splash and a squeal as he jumped in the lake, another sure sign that winter was at its end, although not one that any of us were ready for.

We came down twice as fast as we went up, happy to be headed for Grasmere, where hot soup and cream teas were waiting for us!

In mist or sunshine, this is the Lake District I love. This sprawling land lined with slate rock walls and dotted with sheep. Where you close your eyes and hear only the running of water and open them again to see your children disappear around the bend ahead. Because who can help running when there is such a world to be explored.

Thanks Mama for exploring one of my favorite parts of the UK with me!

And a big thank you to the Grasmere YHA for hosting us in the Lake District, providing us with maps, hot food and warm (dry!) beds at night!

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Coast to Coast: Children Welcome

We had been watching for them all day, expecting to glimpse them around almost every corner. My husband, Taido and the kids were joining us for the weekend. After five days and eighty miles, the distraction of their arrival was a welcome one, keeping my mind from focusing on the new aches and pains I was developing with each mile.

I knew as we left Patterdale that it would be a long time before we met them, but I was already keeping track in my mind of what time they ought to arrive in Shap and begin walking towards us.

We did not meet them in the mist as we hiked over Kidsty Pike from Patterdale.

We did not meet them on the descent to Haweswater, our final bit of the Lake District.

And we did not meet them as we walked the ups and downs of the trail that ran along the lake.

I kept spotting people in the distance and thinking, “Maybe that’s them.”

Then I would watch groups get closer and realize that my family was not among them.

The day was stretching on into the afternoon when we finished the five miles along the lake without spotting them.

It was on a bridge in the woods that Diane first spotted Taido walking toward us.

A sight for sore eyes, we were both thrilled to see him.

The kids were resting about a half mile back, refusing to walk any further. Taido stopped at an honesty snack box to grab them a treat. We saw several of these after leaving the Lake District, boxes full of cokes and candy bars where you could take something and leave money for the kid who had placed it on the trail. (Adorable.)

We hurried on to where the kids were. I heard them before I saw them, up in a tree being silly. Hot from the sun, they complained that they were already tired of walking. But then they quickly outpaced Diane and me on the last four miles to Shap. Racing further and further ahead, they stopped at the gorgeous Shap Abbey ruin to wait for us. Taido expressed concern at our slow pace, wondering aloud if we were going to be able to finish the walk. We were dragging the last mile after the abbey and then the mile through the town of Shap to get to our hotel.

Taido popped in a grocery store to get a picnic dinner while the rest of us went on to check into our hotel. It was after 7pm when we sat down in the back garden for our meal, and we fell into bed pretty quickly afterwards.

I was good and tired, and feeling a little daunted by the 21 miles that awaited us the next day, especially since the kids were less than enthusiastic about spending a weekend walking with us. Trying to remain optimistic, Diane and I kept reminding each other that it was supposed to be an easy, flat walk. The hills were behind us now, and anyway, if the kids absolutely couldn’t make it, Taido could take them the rest of the way in the car.

Yes, it was all going to be fine.

But then before we were a mile into our day from Shap to Kirkby Stephen, I was in a puddle of tears, feeling as though my brilliant idea to have my family come and hike with us for part of our epic journey was an epic fail.

Recently a friend of mine said something to me about someone who was facing an overwhelming series of difficult circumstances and events, and without meaning to, she enlightened me about why I get so upset when things don’t go according to plan. In talking about her friend, she said,

“She didn’t really fall apart like I expected. I suppose that since she was always expecting the worst to happen, she was not that thrown off when her life came unraveled. Because I’m an eternal optimist, I am devastated when hard things happen.”

I was definitely suffering from the unraveling of my own optimism about this portion of our walk. The kids told me before I left that they did not want to come. They wanted to spend their extra days off school doing what they feel all school holidays are made for: sleeping late, eating everything in the house, and playing video games. So I should not have been surprised that they all woke up in varying states of rebellion about the idea that they were going to spend the entire day walking over twenty miles.

But I kept telling myself that they would be happy once they got there. Down the road a bit, they would start to enjoy it like they do on our weekend walks back at home. Like they usually do.

I was pushing past their attitudes, even when we woke up and it was raining a little. It’s just a drizzle. It will burn off quickly.

I was remaining optimistic about the weekend even after I checked my email, which included two fairly disappointing rejections. I won’t think about those today. Everything will work out.

I might have even still been (fake) smiling at Diane when I informed her that Taido seemed to have misplaced his wallet and he was going to stay back to try to find it and meet us later.

I was really trying to hold on to the happy vision I had of my family joining us on the Coast to Coast as we laced up our boots, stood up on my aching legs and headed out into the drizzle with the kids.

All the excitement that I had carried in my heart on the trail the previous day about meeting my family had slowly drained out of me and I was spiraling quickly from, “Well, maybe this wasn’t such a great idea” to some ridiculous version of “All of life is ending.”

Not really, but sort of.

You know how it is. Somehow even my future as a writer began to be in question as a result of the fact that it was raining a little and that my credit cards were being cancelled.

The way I can connect the dots of a difficult morning into a trajectory that obviously means I am failing at all of life is actually kind of impressive.

Cut to me crying on the trail to Diane as my kids, the ones who say they don’t like hiking, are a half mile ahead of us already.

Diane prayed me through my snotty sniffles, as she has about one thousand times in our life together back in Arkansas. In fact our friendship began in earnest when I was my most desperate as a parent, coming to her for help.

I finished crying and she finished praying and we carried on. Just as we had every other day, one foot in front of the other, but I felt a little bit lighter.

We walked through farm after farm. And then moor after moor. The terrain was easy, just long.

I do love English farmland. I was reminded of St Cuthbert’s Way, so green and bright. So many sheep. Rock walls for miles and lots of stiles.

It was still drizzling when Taido caught up with us. He had parked in Orton and walked back to us. Cash withdrawn and banks informed, he was over the wallet loss and ready with a picnic lunch, which we promptly gobbled down in a bus shelter in Orton.

We had come eight miles so far, and I thought that maybe Taido and the kids would just drive the rest of the way and meet back up with Diane and I later. Taido said they would keep on for at least part of the way and he would walk back and get the car when it got to be too much.

The afternoon was kind of blissfully monotonous. The drizzle stopped and we meandered without saying much. Diane engaged each of the kids at different times along the way, except for Cole who kept well ahead of us all day.

I had the opportunity to introduce them all to some of our fellow Coast to Coasters. We told a few stories and I heard a little about their week back at home. Around 4pm, the sun even came out. Taido turned around to go back for the car and after a while the kids, began to watch for him. They were tired, but they weren’t coming unglued. Cole carried Simon on his back for a bit. Taido parked the car at a spot where the trail met the road about two miles from the end. We could see Kirkby Stephen in the distance. I was so proud when I realized that the kids had walked over 18 of our miles with us. Diane and I threw our packs in the van and ran the last two.

As we came into Kirkby Stephen, we were singing. Literally. I can’t remember what song we were singing, but it was some version of praising the Lord for how the day had completely turned around from that morning. We came around a corner and a sweet lady in her front garden said, “You’re the first people I’ve seen come into town on that trail singing! That’s for sure!”

We laughed, saying we were just grateful to have made it through the day and she told us that we had an easy walk ahead of us tomorrow. “Even I can still climb that hill you’re going over next,” she said, “I was up there last week and it’s really lovely this time of year. And you can expect good weather as well.”

We met Taido and the kids for fish and chips in Kirkby Stephen, at a place where Wainwright used to eat. His picture was on the wall, one of many we saw along the walk. Everyone ate every crumb of their dinner, and they were all delighted with the prospect of getting into bathtubs afterwards. As we said goodnight, no one even complained about getting up the next day to walk again.

Somehow after twenty miles, twelve starts to sound not too bad.

We had a small hill left to climb, Nine Standard Rigg, and Taido said that after we climbed it, he would turn around and get the car and drive around to the end.

We were up at the top before noon, taking in the views from the nine rock piles on top of the watershed in Yorkshire. It would be all downhill from here.

The boys ran down the other side, with Simon chasing after them for most of the afternoon. Everyone had hit their stride, and even our picnic lunch seemed happier.

About three miles before the end, we passed Ravenseat Farm, where Sarah and her seven children serve tea from their kitchen on the grass. It was like a scene from Jane Austen, being served tea and hot scones with homemade jam and clotted cream. We sipped our tea while Simon played with the puppies. Loads of people were stopped there for the walkers’ garden party with a parade of tea trays coming out of the farmhouse kitchen.

The dreamy, delightful afternoon tea carried us the rest of the way into Keld, where we ended our days of walking with the children with a big spaghetti dinner.

By the time we told them goodbye and they drove back home to Aberdeen, I was sad to see them go.

They had gotten us to our halfway point.

We felt ready to take on the next hundred miles, grateful that they had shared a portion of the first hundred with us.

Our Coast to Coast walk was made possible in part by the good folks at Macs Adventure, who were wonderful to work with and who should in no way be held responsible for our tendency to get lost or our ridiculous YouTube videos.

The post Coast to Coast: Children Welcome appeared first on Alison Chino.

Are you still walking with me friends?

If not, you can still start.

It’s the beginning of June, so you still have almost seven months left in 2014 to have some amazing adventures!

Make a list and tweet/Instagram me a picture! (@alisonchino)

Here’s a walk we did in mid-May in Glen Clova, which is about an hour away from us (in Aberdeen, Scotland). It was truly one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen, even in the mist, so I can’t wait to go back and see it on a clear day!

It took us about four hours to get to the top, so full day for sure. There might have been a tear or two when the fog settled in. The rain held off until the end of the day, but we got soaked on our last half mile or so.

My Google+ album has most of the shots from this walk and you can view them in this beautiful story format, a new Google feature that I am LOVING!

A few more walks from the community: Jen in Eureka Springs, AR, Ellen in the Auckland Botanical Gardens.

The post Climbing Mayar, Glen Clova {Scotland} 19/48 appeared first on Alison Chino.

We’ve made a couple of trips now to hike in an area called Bennachie that is only about a 30 minute drive from Aberdeen. The countryside around our city is referred to as Aberdeenshire, so we are quite fond of saying,

Let’s head out to the shire today!

or

Come on y’all, we’re going to the shire!

Seriously, it never gets old. At least not for this American.

Also, somewhat funny is how we tend to mispronounce the names of places. On our first trip to this particular area, we stopped to ask for directions and we got blank faces until I showed them the name in my guidebook.

Because apparently Bennachie = Ben-uh-Hee

Just so you know.

But now that we’ve got the pronunciation sorted, we are beginning to learn our way around this very well-kept set of hiking trails.

There are multiple ways to go, so you can always add a bit more on or take a little off your walk if the weather turns. Some of the routes are for mountain bikes as well, and then also there are some hard core mountain bikers on the walking routes.

From where you park, you hike through an old growth forest that is almost eerily dark. The kids found climbing tress and wild mushrooms along this part of the walk.

Then the trees end and you ascend quickly through fields of heather to hilltops with beautiful views of the area.

There are several tall points, and our first weekend out, after getting up out of the trees, we did a loop where you hit three of the highest hills before heading back down again.

This past weekend, we just had Ben and Simon with us, so we did a shorter loop called Millstone.

The temperatures were right at freezing, so there was frost on the fields and even a little ice on some of the rocks.

After our hike, we stopped into a little butcher shop in the village of Kemnay for pies to warm us up. Steak pie is Simon’s favorite. There was a bakery around the corner, so we had sweets as well.

We still have not nearly explored all of Bennachie, and I can tell that it will be fun to watch it change through the seasons. The pictures from these two hikes are about a month apart and you can already see a lot of difference in the landscape. Also, our October hike was in the afternoon sun, while our November trip out was in the morning rain.

I know we will be sharing these hilltops with friends when they visit next summer, and I cannot wait to see this heather in full bloom!

Mary Polly snapped this picture of Taido and me on top of one of the hills (Oxen Crag). I can’t even remember what the boys were doing to make us laugh so hard.

Follow me Instagram? Also, half of the pictures from this post are Taido’s.

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The post Hiking In Scotland: Bennachie appeared first on Alison Chino.